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Stripping naked, he dropped his clothes into the hamper and started brushing his teeth. Watching in the mirror as I undressed down to my panties (I haven’t felt comfortable sleeping naked since having ), he mumbled around the brush, “I wan choo wah anthoo maw wuck woo.”

I laughed, “Take the brush of your mouth, you big dummy.”

He spit in the sink and said, “I want to watch another man you.” He looked nervous and his cheeks bloomed.

I was stunned. Utterly confused, I just looked at him. Gathering his courage, he asked, “Did you hear me?”

“You’re crazy.” I squirted a line of paste on my toothbrush, jammed into my mouth and brushed vigorously. He watched me, close attention to my jiggling breasts.

I had developed early and had been busty since hitting puberty. In I was rail thin but filled a D-cup and was ashamed of my top heavy-figure. It wasn’t until college that I became confident in my appearance and learned to love my breasts. But that was a long time ago and gravity, along with feeding suckling babies took its toll. Their appearance depressed me and a few years ago I’d had some work done.

They are now a size C and the doctor was talented. Once again, my breasts are buoyant and ride on my chest, my nipples - ringed by strawberry coronas - point upward like firm, pink gumdrops. They are soft and full and move naturally with my body. are no visible scars, and I love them. I can go braless again, and often do around the house. Mike loves them, too, even when wasn’t perfect between us.

“I’m serious.” Glancing at his , I saw thickening; getting fuller. LIt was obvious the topic was turning him on. When he slowly started stroking it, I rolled my eyes.

Cocking my hips, I asked, “Is that what you really want?” The idea wasn’t without some merit, but this was way out of the norm for him.

“Yep.”

“Another guy’s dick stuffed in my pussy?” He knows I don’t care for the “P” word and I used it for effect.

“Yes,” he said. “In fact, I’d like to take a video of it. catch his come oozing from your pussy.” He used the word for effect.

I feigned a laugh, as if he might be joking. Waving him off, I said, “You can’t be serious.” I threw a washcloth at him and laughed. “ you.”

His smile was impish but he didn’t back down. “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want another guy do you. I want see your pussy stretched around his thick cock as he pounds into you.”

I half-laughed, half-mocked. “God. Can you please not that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean offend.” He looked stung but regrouped and pushed forward. “I’d like see his come oozing from your special place.”

When I was very , my called my vagina my special place and stuck. , doesn’t sound as vulgar as most of the words assigned the soft folds between a woman’s thighs. And while I recognize ’s somewhat immature for me refer my as something other than what is, I’m old enough not care what other people think.

Not by luck, I discovered the first I made friends with in college also called her vagina her special place. She’d even named hers and before we parted ways, we’d named mine as well: Claire. Mike knew my special place better than most, but he never knew her name.

Looking the pink triangle of my panties, he said, “It’s your pussy by the way, Gwendolyn. Don’t get wrong, , it is fucking special. It looks great; you keep it just how I like it - shaved and smooth. And it tastes delicious.” He smirked and my heart lifted a . He used love going down on , although rarely happened anymore. “’s tight and my dick fits in it perfectly, but,” he shrugged, “it turns on thinking about watching you with another guy. I want see your pus…special place filled with someone else’s come.” He put air quotes around ‘special’.

Raising an eyebrow, I said, “It kind of sounds like you want me out.”

“Honey, you’re not a . I love you.” He paused and got very sincere. His voice dropped and I could see the hurt in his eyes. “But we are struggling sexualy and you know . I think this will help...us. Hell, I think will be exciting.” He looked intently. “You’ll enjoy it. I promise. Plus, it’s something I’ve kind of fantasized about for years.”

It was clear he liked the idea; his cock was now rock-hard. Thinking for a moment, he said, “Actually, ‘whoring’ you out is not accurate since no will be exchanged. He gets you for free and all of us are okay with it.”

I thought, If doing this will get things back on track for us in the bedroom, I am all-in. And was I kidding? Having someone watch me as I was being fucked was nothing new. had just been a long time in the past and was something Mike didn’t know about.

I’d kept my sexual history fairly ambiguous and Mike was a gentleman; he didn’t ask a lot of questions. I softened my voice; the shock of the idea was dying and was an honest question. “Honey, is this what you really want? Because once happens, ’s a part of we are as a couple forever. We can’t take back.”

He stepped closer. “ is, Gwenny. really is.” Running a finger down my breast, he fiddled with my nipple, making it taut.

Watching as he played with , I whispered, “Stop it,” and turned away giggling.

He grinned like a fool, then set the toothbrush on the counter. Stepping behind , he caressed my bottom then jerked my thong upward, pulling it between Claire’s lips. I grunted and tried to pivot my hips away but he yanked harder and I groaned.

“Honey, bend over and place your hands on the counter.”

“No. I don’t want to.” This was a game we often played before having . was also game we hadn’t played in years and surprised me.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said.

“ should.” I feigned a pout.

“But doesn’t, and we both know .”

“I’m not in the mood.” I pushed back slightly, bumping my butt his cock; clearly communicating that I was most certainly in the mood.

“I don’t care,” he said.

“You should.” But I rotated my bottom, waggling for him. Like all animals, we had our own mating ritual.

“Shush, honey. Just shush now. I’m going you and you’re going take like a good .” He stroked his dick, which was just average in terms of size. Even so, I realized I missed . My appetite for remained; had just been tamped down by parenthood.

One morning, shortly after Mike proposed, I found him in the kitchen making coffee. It was long before we started a family and we often strolled naked around our apartment in the nude. Mike was grinding the beans and the room smelled wonderful. I just watched him for a moment, enjoying the way the sunshine coming through the window played across his body.

I walked up him with a wry smile. Waving a ruler in front of him, I took hold of his cock and slowly stroked it. “If this is the dick that’s going to me for the rest of my life, I better know what I’m getting into.” He laughed as I went to my knees. Sucking him until he was on the verge of coming, I laid his cock along the ruler, ’s girth hiding the measuring device completely. We both laughed and I told him six inches was all I’d ever really need. A minute later, he carried me to the kitchen table, spread my legs and proceeded to feed Claire her breakfast.

I was being honest back then and I still enjoy him inside today. And watching his reflection in the mirror now, all these years later, we both knew he was right; my thought on the matter of wanting to be fucked didn’t to anything. It was how I was raised. My was very traditional and my was a pastor. “When comes lying with your husband, don’t deny him. You’ll be better off,” mom had me told moments before I headed down the isle. “Even if you aren’t in the mood, just open your legs. keeps a couple happy and will be over soon enough.”

I had been madly in love when I shared this with Mike on our honeymoon late one night. He had me bent over the railing of the hotel room balcony, my Hawaiian-print miniskirt up around my waist (no need wear panties on my honeymoon!), a full moon over a quiet bay in Maui. Mike had tugged open the bikini top I wore and my breasts dangled in the warm air; swinging in rhythm to the thrust of his hips. I didn’t care if anyone saw us.

We were both drunk and I looked back over my shoulder and said, “My said I spread my legs and let you whenever you want .” I giggled, stuck my thumb in my mouth and made my eyes big. “I always do what my says!”

“You were raised you right!” He swatted my bottom. “Your special place belongs to me , doesn’t ?”

“Yes.”

“Then say for me, Gwenny .”

I was happy . “My special place belongs you.” Claire had belonged others - many others - in the past, but the time, I was happy she belonged Mike. “Now be a fucking man,” I said, “and fill me up.” We climaxed together a few minutes later and coincidentally made Katelyn in the process.

He’d been using this information to fuck on his terms for years. And, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I was fine with it. I like a man takes control of in the bedroom. makes me feel feminine and desired.

Setting my toothbrush down, I spit in the sink and laid my palms flat on the cold marble. “Okay.”

Hooking his thumbs into the thin strings on my hips, he tugged my panties over my bottom. They fell to the floor in a satin heap and I stepped out of them. “That’s my good ,” he said, his strong fingers kneading my cheeks, opening them so he could at my butthole.

Gently nudging my ankles apart, he said, “Gwen, spread them wider.” And then he pushed a finger inside my special place. I whimpered as I widened my stance. The sound echoed off the bathroom tile.

“Shush, you’ll wake them up ,” he whispered.

But I whimpered again as he plunged two more inside me. Claire wasn’t ready for such an unapologetic intrusion. He pushed harder, grunting the effort, and turned his wrist. “Just relax, honey. feels fine.”

He as right, felt wonderful. But I mewed, “Don’t be rough with me.” Letting him know he was in and that I wanted be taken aggressively.

“Ride out, honey,” he cooed. Separating his fingers as he withdrew, he stretched Claire open, “You know how.” I bleated like a lamb in distress and pushed toward him, trying to ease the strain on my labia.

“Gwendolyn, be quiet.”

I moaned into my forearm.

He said, “Just be patient.” beads of sweat popped up on his forehead as he worked Claire over. He wasn’t gentle, although neither of us minded. It was just that it had been a long time since she’d been attended in such a way.

I grunted as he pushed. “God! Please, Mike. Please!” was renewed passion in my voice.

He pulled my hair, yanking my body upward so we both could witness my facial expressions in the mirror. Slipping a finger out of Claire, he diddled my clit as he thrust. Building speed, he said, “You’ll get wet.” And he pummeled her until she acquiesced and we heard her making the inelegant slurping sounds. Claire was ready but this wasn’t how we normally made love; this was how college lovers screwed, not a couple had been married nearly ten years. was exciting but also somehow embarrassing.

I felt self-conscious and couldn’t at myself any longer. Resting my cheek against the cool countertop, he spanked and grabbed my hair. “No Gwen,” he said. “Watch.”

I winced and held tightly to the counter as he entered me . “God damnit!”

“Watch,” he said. And I did; seeing the uncomfortable expression on my face when he pushed with force. Hissing when he spanked my bottom, he rode me hard, as if trying to tame me; my breasts dangling, my stiff nipples sliding across the chilled counter in rhythm to his hips. I began to make the yipping noises I hadn’t heard in some time. They sounded alien.

“You’re going another man, aren’t you?” He drove inside me forcefully and felt good. He twisted my hair into his hand and I muffled another howl; I didn’t want to wake them .

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’ll do !”

“What are you going do?”

“ another man.”

“He’s going come inside you.”

“Yes.”

“I’m going video his come oozing from your pussy, aren't I?” He was pounding into me like a jackhammer.

“Yes. yes!”

He pushed hard and moaned. I felt the slick of his sperm shoot inside my special place and I collapsed onto the counter; the ice-cold marble a welcome respite to rest my body upon.

Withdrawing his cock, he bent and inspected Claire, peeling her lips open. I heard the spatters of his come slap against the floor. Once again shoving three fingers inside her, Mike pushed his tongue into my butthole, which was something he’d never done before. I tried to move away but he grabbed my hips and held me . After a few minutes, he withdrew his fingers and buried his face in my sopping pleat, his tongue lapping his come from my womb.

Even though he hadn't fed from Claire in a long time, I couldn’t get into the right headspace. I was perplexed. What he’d proposed was so outside of the person he always seemed to be, which frightened me as much as it turned me on. He didn’t stop until I came, which took a long time.